


squalls in coffee cups

by SaekoCrolla (Crollalanza)



Series: Sports Fest 2018 Haikyuu!! [39]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Domestic, M/M, kiss and make up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 23:19:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16670302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/SaekoCrolla
Summary: Getting along in the first flush of a relationship is easy, but living together and dealing with domesticity is where the squalls start.





	squalls in coffee cups

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for sportsfest and I've forgotten the prompt but it was something about making up after a row. Amd I think it was San's prompt.

The row had been brewing for days. Oppressive clouds gathering as the storm approached. Small squalls over an unwashed teacup, a shirt on the floor and washing left mouldering in the machine rather than hung up to dry.

The row when it came, in a flash and thunder reverberating in their tiny kitchen, wasn’t a shock.

And yet … it was.

Because the aftermath of yells, clenched jaws and slammed doors was separateness. While Suna stayed curled up on the sofa his eyes on the TV as he flicked through channels, not settling on one, Osamu slouched off to bed.

Not that he slept, but he stared up at the ceiling waiting for ‘Tarou to join him,

He didn’t. And when Osamu surfaced at six, Suna was sprawled under a blanket, eyes tight shut, the TV still blaring. 

That did it. The fact he’d had _such_ a restful night, while Osamu had barely caught a wink curdled his insides, and instead of making them both coffee, half in apology, he stomped to the front door, pulled on his trainers and left.

He didn’t have a plan, but ran down the street until he got to the park. A few circuits, work up a sweat, clear his mind until he worked out his next move because … fuck it, ‘Tarou was a stubborn asshole … but he could be stubborner (or was that more stubborn) and it weren’t as if this was all his fault.

It was when he was halfway around the track that he saw a familiar figure. His heart both leapt and sank, because his twin, whatever his faults, knew him entirely and would guess something was wrong.

“Early for you?” ‘Tsumu greeted.

“Not really. Sunrise is my thing.”

“Since when?”

“Since this month,” Osamu muttered. “Get out the apartment, wake myself up, get a head start on the day. Wasn’t that what you always used to say?”

“Woulda thought you’d have other things to do with your mornings,” Atsumu drawled. He peered closer. “Why the fuck are you running in pyjamas?”

“Training kit’s in the wash.”

_Has been for three days._

He’d forgotten to take it out and Suna had removed his own stuff and left his to rot.

They set off at a companionable pace, able to talk and run with ease, competition not yet riling them.

“How’s Rin?”

“Asleep.”

“All the time?”

“’Course not.” He shrugged. “He’s fine.”

“And you didn’t want to wake him up? You could’ve jogged together.”

“We don’t have to do everything together, you know!” Osamu snapped. “It’s not like he’s my fucking annoying twin!”

And maybe that was the problem. Suna wasn’t Atsumu and Osamu was too used to dealing with arguments that flared violently, then died as quickly as they’d started. ‘Tsumu had never been backward at coming forward, in speaking his mind, whereas ‘Tarou…

“I should go home,” Osamu muttered and turned on his heel.

“Give him a making-up snog from me,” Atsumu cackled.

“No chance!”

 

Letting himself into the apartment, Osamu heard the thrum of the shower. He walked into the kitchen, switching the kettle on and reached for two mugs.  He was halfway through his coffee when Suna appeared, towel around his waist and hair glistening with water.

“You weren’t out long.”

“Met ‘Tsumu. He was being his usual annoying self.”  He pushed the other mug of coffee forward on the table. “Sorry ‘bout the washing.”

Suna shrugged. “Sorry I was petty.”

“You shoulda said something.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He sighed as he pulled up a chair, then raised the coffee to his lips, taking a sip. “I’m not Atsumu.”

“What’s ‘Tsumu got to do with this?”

“It’s both of you,” Suna murmured. “You deal with conflict up front and I … I brood.”

“And take photos.” He tried a grin, relieved when he received a sliver of one in return.

“Only when I’m an onlooker,” Suna replied. He reached across the table and took Osamu’s hand. “I’m not used to being a combatant.”

“Silence unnerves me,” Osamu admitted. “If I’ve pissed you off, I’d rather know than play twenty questions.”

“And sometimes things that piss me off are really not important,” Suna murmured. “So it’s better if I work them through in my own time.” He picked up his mug, swirling it in his hands. “My Granny used to say that storms in teacups soon smooth over, especially if we leave them to settle.”

“And my Granny always told me not to go to sleep on an argument,” Osamu replied. “Although technically, I didn’t sleep.”

“Neither did I,” Suna said, and stifled a yawn. “I just pretended when you came out the bedroom.”

“Sooo… if we went to bed now, just for an hour or so…”

“We won’t have disobeyed either Granny,” Suna agreed. He linked his fingers into Osamu’s and stood up. “Come on, let’s kiss and make up.”

 


End file.
